for the first clear round, Georgie was clapping louder than anyone.
“You should be proud of that round,” Lucinda told Georgie.
“But I wasn’t the one riding!” Georgie said.
“No, but you trained him. You’ve schooled Tyro well and it shows. He’s a credit to you.”
Olivia was totally smitten. “He is the most amazing pony,” she gushed to Georgie. “I know I’m being really cheeky saying this but if you ever decide to sell Tyro, will you please call me? I’d love to buy him!”
After Olivia went clear, the floodgates opened and by Georgie’s turn to ride there had been five clear rounds. To make the top three Georgie not only had to go clear, she also had to get a quick-smart time to beat the others on the clock.
It was a fine line to tread. If she went hell for leather then she risked making a mistake. All it would take was a single refusal or a rail down to totally blow her chances. But if she went too cautiously she might lose on time faults.
As she entered the arena Georgie urged Caprice into a steady canter and stood up in her stirrups in two-point position. She rode a lap around the fences, mentally mapping her route between the jumps. So far, no one had taken the shortcut that she’d been planning to take on Tyro. Should she risk it on an unknown horse or aim for a safe, clear round and hope her time would be good enough?
This time she heard the bell ring loud and clear. With a tip of her hat to the selectors, she rode one last lap around the perimeter and then came through the flags like a rocket. The clock was ticking. She had to go clear and make every second count.
Georgie rode at the first fence with almost too much energy and Caprice took off from too far back with a huge stride. Her hind legs scraped the rail and Georgie heard the crowd go “ohhh!” as the pole rocked in its cups. But it didn’t fall. She steadied the mare and took her time over the next few fences. Through the treble one… two … three! Georgie had got the striding perfection the jumps but she sensed that their time was far too slow. There were only two fences left. If Georgie wanted to beat the other clear rounds, she had to go for the shortcut.
Over number eight she had to virtually twist Caprice in mid-air, so that the mare landed at an angle. There was a gasp from the crowd as they realised what Georgie was doing and another as Caprice nearly hit a fence as she swerved to the right. Then, suddenly, the last jump loomed right in front of Georgie. She would almost have to jump it sideways to make it over.
Georgie took a deep breath and kicked on. Caprice put in one last stride and then lifted up into the air. There was a choked silence from the crowd. Would she get over? The turn had been so tight it seemed like an impossible leap.
Georgie had judged it like a pro! Caprice flew the fence with room to spare. As she landed on the other side the wild applause told Georgie all she needed to know. She had done it. Georgie was on her way to the finals.
The crowd in the grandstand of Birmingham’s NEC Arena was buzzing with a sense of anticipation. They had already marvelled at the thrills and spills of the scurry races, and gasped at the fantastic Lipizzaner stunt horses performing Swan Lake.
“We do hope you’ve enjoyed the entertainment so far,” announcer Mike Partridge warbled to the audience. “Now it’s time for the main event. You’re about to see the very best young talent in Britain take the ride of their lives. It’s the grand final of the Blainford Academy auditions!”
The crowd gave a cheer and Mike Partridge continued his introduction. “The riders performing for us today are no older than thirteen years of age. All have passedrigorous tests to prove they’re the best in their chosen field. We’ve got eventers and showjumpers, polo players and dressage riders and we’ve even got a Western rider and natural horsemanship star making an appearance!
“Twenty young hopefuls competing for just five places. It’s the competition of a lifetime for these kids.” Mike Partridge paused. “We’ll meet the first of our twenty finalists in just a moment, but before we do that, let me introduce you to our selectors!”
Three giant spotlights flashed on to the arena, tracing circles of light across the golden sand before concentrating on the three judges sitting at the selectors’ table at the far end of the arena.
“Our first selector is a household name–winner of countless Horse of the Year titles, a showjumping superstar and the glamour girl of the British Olympic equestrian squad–it’s the one and only Helen Nicholson!”
The crowd cheered louder than ever as a very beautiful woman with dark brown hair, big brown eyes and a warm smile got up to give them a wave.
“Our next selector,” Mike Partridge began, “is an animal behaviourist whose books on horse training have sold millions. He’s also an Australian–but don’t hold that against him! Ladies and gentlemen–it’s Dr David McGee!” A handsome grey-haired man stood up and waved to the crowd who clapped politely.
“And finally,” Mike Partridge continued, “a woman who needs no introduction. Blainford’s senior selector is an international eventing superstar and a four-times winner of the Lexington Horse Trials. She’s a serious horsewoman–I should know, I’ve been trying all morning to get her to smile! Let’s give her a round of applause and see if she’ll give us a grin. Please welcome Tara Kelly!”
Tara Kelly gritted her teeth at the announcer’s sense of humour. Although it was her job to judge the finals, she had never really got used to the crowds, the lights and the theatrics that came with the event. Over the years, Blainford’s auditions had become more and more spectacular and grand finals night was now so renowned, it had become one of the most exciting events on the British equestrian calendar. All a bit over the top in Tara Kelly’s opinion, but despite her reservations she went along with it because as Blainford’s headmistress, Mrs Dickins-Thomson, pointed out to her, it was brilliant publicity for the school.
“C’mon, Tara, give us a wave, luv!” Mike Partridge coaxed and Tara rose from her seat and grinned and waved at the crowds in the stands. They were here to see a show after all.
Besides, in some ways the three-ring circus that had grown up around the event was a good thing, Tara reasoned. It added to the pressure and gave the twenty candidates waiting backstage a very real taste of what life was like under the spotlight. If you really wanted to be an international horse-riding superstar then these final auditions were a good test of character. Could the twenty riders all stay cucumber-cool when thousands were watching them and Mike Partridge was singing their praises over the loudspeaker?
Until now, the auditions had been divided into separate categories for eventers, showjumpers, dressage riders and so on. But the finals brought all the different disciplines together. With so many different kinds of riders auditioning, it wouldn’t be fair to rely on a single test to compare their skills. Instead, each of the twenty riders was required to create a freestyle performance. They would all have fifteen minutes in the arena and the selectors would cast votes with score cards.
Tara trusted her fellow judges. Helen and David were both experienced and had done the job alongside her before. She would listen carefully to their opinions but at the end of the day they knew that the final choice would always be hers.
“You’ve met our three selectors,” Mike Partridge
